


Snapshots

by WrongEra



Category: She Loves Me - Bock/Harnick/Masteroff
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, One-Shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrongEra/pseuds/WrongEra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one shots based on Amalia and Georg's relationship. Prompts can be submitted on ao3 or on Tumblr via ask. My Tumblr is perhapsthatllwork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> prompt by fangirlltrash on Tumblr: "After Georg and Amalia move into together when ever they leave notes around the house they always start 'Dear Friend'."
> 
>  
> 
> So this sort of takes place after Tying the Knot, but it can stand alone. All you need to know is that this takes place after Amalia and Georg's wedding. Also, thank you FangirlTrash for the review! And yes, I do realize that this one shot got a bit out of hand. Oops!
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
> P.S. The Hungarian cuisine stuff came from Wikipedia as I have absolutely no knowledge whatsoever of Hungarian foods. Oh! And please leave a prompt in the comments or send me an ask on Tumblr (my url is perhapsthatllwork)

Amalia laid comfortably wrapped in the warm green blanket that adorned her bed. Reluctantly, she pried open her eyes. As her gaze landed on the window to her bedroom, her first thought was that the window looked wrong. It was far too big to be that of her bedroom and it's drapes were blue. Hers were a golden colour.

All of a sudden her brain supplied her with the events of the previous night; the happiness, the wedding ceremony, and of course the surprisingly long time it took to retrieve her shoe from her little niece. All in all, last night had been magical, just as she had hoped it would be.

For a second she considered rolling over and going back to sleep. That was until she noticed a lack of a certain tall book-lover in her bed. Where had Her husband gone? Without hesitation, Amalia rolled over to find a white piece of paper, the same kind Georg had used when he wrote her letters, folded neatly into quarters on the pillow where his head should have been. Amalia reached an arm to grab it and unfolded it quickly.

"Dear friend," it read. The titled forced her mouth to curl into a smile.

"In our hurry to arrive at our new home, it appears that we seem to have forgotten to buy food for breakfast. I didn't want to wake you, but I'll be home in a few moments.

Yours,  
Georg."

Just after the letter was read, Amalia heard the door to their apartment creak open and the footsteps of someone who was trying to be quiet. Amalia slid out of bed and pulled on some socks, tightened the belt of her pink pyjamas and slid out into one of the two other rooms of the apartment which made up both the dining room and the kitchen. As she crossed the doorway, she saw her husband's silhouette.

"Good morning, love," Amalia said as she made hew way towards the counter were Georg was unloading the bread and eggs he had obtained for that morning's breakfast. Georg jumped a little, surprised. 

"Good morning, sweetheart," he said as he pulled her in for a short but sweet kiss. As he pulled away he asked, "Did I wake you?"

"No, but it isn't awfully reassuring to wake up the day after one's wedding to find one's husband missing," she replied good-naturedly.

"Ah, but I come bearing gifts," he said as he motioned to the food on the counter. "After all, what fun would it be if we starved."

Amalia pretended to contemplate this for a moment.

"No, I suppose it wouldn't be much fun at all, would it?" She glanced at the food. "So what is it you propose for breakfast?"

"I was thinking some bundáskenyér," he replied. It was after all one of the few thing he knew he could cook without burning the house down.

"Sounds lovely," his wife replied. "I'll change and be right back."

 

Some days later, once the couple had returned to work, Georg was the first to arrive home as Amalia had left to go to a boutique with Ilona. As he slid his key into the door and turned the deadbolt, he tried to think of what he would prepare himself for dinner. Though he and Amalia had stocked up on more food since the night of their wedding, Georg knew that he could still only make very few recipes with what was there.

The first thing he noticed when he got into the room was a pink piece of paper, the kind Amalia used to use to write him letters, sitting on the small table. He crossed the room in few strides and read the note:

"Dear friend,

I left some of the leftovers in the refrigerator. Oh, and please remember to start the laundry!

Yours,  
Amalia."

He shook his head. How had she ever become so prepared?

 

Not long after the first two instances of letter-writing did Amalia and Georg begin leaving letters all over their apartment. 

One of the more memorable ones was when the newlyweds were trying to decide whose family they would spend Easter with.

"Georg! Easter has always been one of the mist important holidays in my family! All of the children will be there for dinner and I will never hear the end of it from my mother if we aren't in attendance!" Amalia argued as she stood by the dining room table. Georg abandoned the pan that he had been scraping to turn to look at her.

"And tradition is so la-dee-da in my family! You know my great aunt still refuses to talk to me after I missed Christmas Eve last year to be with you and your mother!" Georg responded with the vigour Amalia has spoken to him with.

"Well maybe if you had shown a little courage and didn't lie to me about being Dear Friend for two weeks we could have spent it with your family!" Amalia replied. Georg just fumed for a minute, and turned to grab his coat. With the wind taken out of her sails, Amalia asked, "Where are you going?"

"Out, Amalia," he responded instantaneously. "Your cowardly, pathetic excuse for a husband needs to get some fresh air."

"Georg wai-" but her protest came too late, he had already closed the door. Amalia, at a loss for what to do, dug out her favourite pink notepad and a pencil.

"Dear friend," she started.

It was three hours later when Georg finally returned home. Amalia had finished the dishes, stored away their leftovers and dressed herself for bed. She knew that once she and Georg finished having it out, she would have no more energy and would not feel like doing anything. At a loss for another task to occupy her, she sat in bed with the lamp on her night table on reading Anna Karenina. Well, perhaps read was not the right term. She stared at the same page while trying to think about what she would say to Georg when he got home. It wasn't her style to back down, but she though her letter may help smooth matters over. So, even though she had just heard him come into the apartment, she would leave him be for the time being.

As Georg stumbled into the apartment he thought about what an idiot he was. Yes, he was angry, but he knew that Amalia had had important people, namely her father, leave without so much as an explanation. He shouldn't have left in the middle of the fight, of that much he was sure. He had certainly just guaranteed that Amalia would be infinitely more angry at him, and pro label more than a little hurt at his action. Honestly, he couldn't find it in himself to blame her. Ugh, why must he be so hotheaded?

As he walked to the hatstand to hang up his hat, Georg noticed the pink slip on the small table. He picked it up.

"Dear friend," he read. That was good, he figured. He knew he would only be in the greatest form of trouble when Amalia began addressing him in letters as Georg.

"Dear friend,

I am so sorry about this evening. I should not have used your reaction to the surprising news that we were in love as a tool to hurt you. We do, however, still need to finish talking. Meet me in bed.

Yours,  
Amalia."

Georg moved quickly across the kitchen to their bedroom. When he poked his head in, Amalia was already setting down her book. "Sweetheart..." He began.

"You left," she interjected. "You promised you wouldn't."

And he had. On one of the dates that he and she had had before their wedding, she had told him about her father who had decided that it was far too much work for a young man such a s himself to support a wife and three children. It would be much more fun to go to dancing every night with a different partner. Georg had promised her then that he wouldn't leave.

"But I came back. And I'm sorry," he said. He walked closer to his wife and sat on top of the covers fully clothed as he wrapped an arm around her slim shoulders. Despite her anger, she still sought out his comfort and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, too for calling you a coward. You aren't. Really," she said quietly.

 

"I know," he said. 

"I wasn't sure you were going to come back," Amalia said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. She gave the impression of being a scared child.

"Dear friend," Georg started as he gave her a peck on the forehead. "I will always come back."

The two sat like that until the sun filtered into their room.

And letters, just like their love, were always to be found in their own little home. Some were sweet and silly and some were heartfelt, but all reminded them that they were loved no matter what.


	2. A (Not So Simple) Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by anonymous on Tumblr: could you do a she loves me fic about the proposal? thank you!

Amalia Balash was not a stupid woman. Shy, quiet, maybe even perhaps a little bit silly at times, but not out-and-out stupid. And as such, it was not lost on her when Georg started acting differently. At first she thought he was just trying to be professional at work; that, she had no trouble understanding. After all, when they had told Mr. Maraczek that they were seeing each other, this had been the only condition he had. If they behaved professionally, they could both keep working at the parfumerie.

However, it soon became apparent to Amalia that this was more than just mere professionalism when he had cancelled two dates in the last six days. 

These thoughts and more flooded her mind as she sipped her coffee at the café she and Georg used to frequent before he revealed that he was indeed her dear friend. Ilona, that night's dinner mate after Georg's abrupt cancellation, mirrored her actions.

After having sipped half of her drink, Amalia decided to bring up the subject that weighed most heavily other mind.

"Ilona, what does it mean when a man cancels two dates with a girl in just under a week?" Amalia asked, not looking up from her coffee.

"Nothing good," Ilona replied almost immediately. "Why? Who's man is stepping out on them?"

Seeing Amalia's raised eyebrows and slightly slack jawed expression comprehension dawned on Ilona. 

"You don't mean..." Ilona started. "You know Georg wouldn't... I mean not after what you two have been through with this whole Dear Friend business."

Amalia just sat there frozen. She'd suspected a few things; yes, she knew Georg was being elusive but the thought hadn't fully dawned on her until Ilona had spoken it out loud. He missed dates, he walked around looking like a kid with his hand caught in a candy jar, all of the pieces fit. Almost in a daze, Amalia drank the rest of her lukewarm coffee and placed the white mug back on the little table. Then, she pulled a few notes out of her purse and place them left to the now discarded mug. Quickly, she closed her purse and stood, pushing in her chair.

"Amalia-" Ilona started.

"I have to go," she replied hurriedly.

She pushed open the door and let it fall closed behind her. Her white coat, though stylish, wasn't terribly effective against the blustery wind. 

Amalia had an idea; it being ten o'clock Georg should be home. By the time she had finished her thought she found herself standing in front of Georg's building. And a moment later she was knocking on his door. 

Within a moment she heard the lock sliding open. Then Georg peered out the small crack of the door he had opened. Amalia took note that he was still dressed in his work clothes.

"Amalia!" He exclaimed, surprised to see his girlfriend arriving at his apartment so late on a weeknight. Oh, how he hoped she hadn't figured out the surprise. After a moment he opened the door and allowed her in. Both chose to sit on the ugly-if-practical sofa in the middle of his small living room.

"I'm sorry for the late visit," Amalia began. "But I had just finished having a late cup of coffee with Ilona and I realized that I needed to ask you something; are you growing tired of me?"

The way that she hunched over on herself made her appear small to Georg. This was almost enough to break his heart.

Apparently, Amalia had taken his silence as an affirmation. And started to stand.

"Oh. I see," Amalia said. "I'll just..."

"Wait!" Georg exclaim as stood and he grabbed for her hand. Just as quickly as he had caught, Amalia pulled it away.

Swiping the hand he hand just held across her eyes (how had he not noticed the tears brimming there before?) she said:

"Georg, if you want things to end, just let me leave. Do not lie to me, convince me to stay if you are unhappy," she said in a quiet but shaky voice. "Just..."

"Sweetheart!" He said hurriedly. "I cancelled our date tonight because I found out that the engagement ring I had ordered at the store was finally ready for pick up. And the time before that I had just gotten a call from your mother saying that she was free for right that moment. And I wanted to know what she though about my asking you to marry me."

Amalia stood there, frozen as she took in all the new information. "You wanted to propose?"

Georg, seeing that he finally managed to convince her that he did indeed still love her, smiled.

"I still do, if you'll have me."

"Well," Amalia said as she too produced a small smirk. " I would if you'd ask."

Instantly dropping to one knee and frantically searching his pocket for the ring box he knew was in there somewhere he said:

"Amalia Marta Balash, will you marry me?" 

Amalia, still smiling, kneeled down to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Can I take that as a yes?" Georg said after they had separated.

"Yes," she said back.

"And I'm sorry you had to worry about my feelings for you," Georg continued. "But a certain element of secrecy was required."

"Oh Georg," his dear friend responded. "I have never been so happy to be so utterly wrong."


	3. Some Enchanted Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts by two anons on Tumblr: 1. Hey there! Can you do a fic about the finale and what happens after? thanks!
> 
> And
> 
> 2\. Maybe could you do a She Loves Me fic about their first kiss during the finale and what follows after?

As the snow slowly fluttered around them and the cold night air finally began to chill them slightly, Georg and Amalia drew apart. Both were grinning like fools and remained in each other's arms.

"I love you," Amalia said quietly, still not fully believing that Georg, the man she had fallen for despite her best efforts and whom she had already suspected slightly of being Dear Friend, was actually the wonderful idea of a man with whom she had fallen in love. She tilted her head up, waiting to see what his reaction to hearing the words they had written so often to each other in their letters.

Georg's smile grew, almost as if her utterance had given him reassurance.

"I love you, too," he replied, out of breath.

Noticing the length of time they had been delayed, Amalia snapped out of her love-induced haze. 

"Oh, we are so late already," she exclaimed. "Mother expected us to arrive a quarter of an hour ago."

"Well, then I guess we should really get to the bus stop," Georg observed. "What time would the next one be coming?"

Amalia glanced at her watch.

"It runs once every half hour on the hour, so..." Amalia though for a moment. "In five minutes."

Georg held out his arm.

"Shall we?" He asked.

"We shall," Amalia replied.

***SLM***

Though they were late arriving, Amalia's mother was more than understanding when she heard the explanation regarding Georg and Dear Friend's identity. That is, until her daughter left the room to use the washroom.

Once left alone with her daughter's sweetheart, Mrs. Balash proceeded with an intense line of questioning complete with a stern expression and withering gaze.

"So, you were the young man who sent my daughter all those letters?" She asked.

Georg nodded. Well that was an easy enough question to answer.

"And you were the one who decided that telling her that her Dear Friend has left the café without coming to see her was better than revealing yourself to be said Dear Friend?"

Georg gulped. He could already see what direction this was heading in. On the one hand, he had lied to and deceived and hurt her daughter so much she had chosen to stay home sick instead of going to work. On the other, he was the man who loved and cared for her daughter and wrote her wonderful love letters. Trying to explain how both sets of actions were compatible would be complicated.

"I... Well you see..." He took a deep breath, then continued to ramble on nervously. "At the time Amalia and I were not the best of friends. In fact, we weren't friends at all; we hated each other."

Amalia's mother raised an eyebrow. Oh, no. Georg knew he needed to explain, and quickly.

"But, you see, we only hated each other because we thought that we were in love with other people while still being attracted to each other. This led to a lot of confusion," Georg's words were pouring out of his mouth so fast that it seemed as though they were tripping on each other. "And the realization that we love each other."

Amalia's mother lowered her eyebrow and returned to her normal seated position. 

"I see," she said. 

Never had Georg been so happy to see Amalia walking back into the dining room.

***SLM***

"Goodnight, Georg," Amalia said as she and he stepped into the hallway outside of the apartment she shared with her mother. She leaned in for a kiss that he was only too happy to return.

Once finished, Eorg and Amalia pulled apart.

"Goodnight, my dear," he said. "Thank your mother for the wonderful food."

"Oh, but Georg you've already thanked her twice," Amalia replied.

"I know, he said as he shrugged in his grey coat. "But I have the strangest feeling she doesn't like me."

Amalia looked as though the thought was absurd. 

"Don't be silly," she said. "She found you charming."

Georg didn't reply, not wanting to bring up the earlier interrogation. He bent his head down for another quick kiss.

"Goodnight, dear."


	4. Introducing, For the First Time Ever...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts by two anons on Tumblr: Person A, the more stoic/serious of the two, treating a severe injury that Person B sustained. Person B notices A’s hands shaking and tries to crack a joke, which only serves to send Person A bursting into tears over nearly losing B.
> 
> And
> 
> Could you do a She Loves Me fic about Georg and Amalia when they have their first child?
> 
> Ok, so I kinda altered the first of these two a bit, but it still fits, I swear!!! Hope you enjoy! Also, warning for serious birthing complications (nothing in too much detail I swear, just the fact that Amalia is not okay.). Oh, and I tried to research whether a hospital or home birth, and all that kind of thing, for 1930s Hungary, and I included the convoluted and likely not fully reliable info in this fic. The rest was basically filled in by my (albeit limited knowledge) of what would happen today or more recently. So, all in all, please forgive all my inaccuracies! Anyway, enjoy!

Two AM is not an ideal time for most things. Take, for example, how having a lovely picnic in a wonderfully idyllic meadow could take a sour turn when, instead of having the warm yellow sun high in the sky, you had the dim white light of the moon.

However, two AM was the time that Georg and Amalia's first child decided to make her grand entrance into the world.

 

Dear reader, let me catch you up on how this event took place; at precisely 10:03 (Georg happened to glance upon the clock on the wall at the hospital) Georg and Amalia Nowack arrived at the hospital that, thankfully, wasn't too far from their little apartment. Within moments, Amalia had a delivery room with an obstetrician, and Georg had been banished to the waiting rooms. This, clearly, was not where he wanted to be. He wanted to be there, to meet their baby, to see that his wife really was doing alright.

Until such a moment that he was able to do so, Georg just sat in a chair, his knee bouncing up and down as he tried not to let his overwhelming exhaustion pull him to sleep.

***SLM***

Amalia had never taken such relief in hearing the howls of a baby. But, this time, it mean that her and Georg's child was finally here and, from what she could hear, had healthy lungs. Despite her elation over the fact that she could finally meet her child, she had trouble keeping her eyes open. On top of this, her head felt increasing light.

The last thing she heard before her world went black was:

"Mrs. Nowack, it's a girl! Mrs. Nowack? Mrs. Nowack!"

***SLM***

Georg heard the nurse's footsteps before he was able to see her. Moments later, she was standing in front of him with with something swaddled in a white blanket. It took his sleep-deprived brain a few moments to realize that the bundle was his child.

The nurse greeted him with a smile. "Congratulations, Mr. Nowack," she said. "It's a girl."

Georg accepted his daughter and held her somewhat awkwardly. His only other experience holding a baby, after all, was holding Ladislav's children once each when he went to visit him and his wife soon after the kids were born. 

"Hi," he said to the wrinkled pink face of his daughter who stubbornly decided to keep her eyes shut. After a brief moment, Georg realized what was wrong with this picture; Amalia wasn't there.

"Miss," he said. "Where is my wife?" 

The nurse's smile faltered. Georg deduced that this obviously was not good news.

"Well," the young nurse said quietly. "I'm afraid something went wrong during the birth. She began haemorrhaging. The doctor is working to help her now."

Georg's expressions slipped from joy to utter shock in less than a second. The only thing that was running through his head was that Amalia could die. That, and not to drop the baby.

The nurse tried to reassure him.

"Please, do not worry," she said. "When I left he said that your wife should make a full recovery."

***SLM***

Later, when dawn was breaking, the nurse ran out again to find Georg. When she neared him in the waiting room, she saw that he was holding his daughter close, dwarfing the already tiny infant, talking to her in a quiet voice with a couple of stray tears rolling down his eyes.

"And then your mother accused me of stealing her shoe so she wouldn't be able to go to work," he said, the happy memory putting the slightest of laughs into his voice. He swiped at his eyes. "She did forgive me, though, when I told her that I brought her some--"

"Mr. Nowack," the nurse said. "Your wife is stable and awake. You can go see her."

Now, this was definitely not this woman first day on the job, or even her first time telling someone impossibly good news, but it was the first time she had ever seen a smile so wide or eyes so full of happiness. "Thank you."

"Please follow me," she said.

Moments later, Georg found himself standing next to a groggy Amalia.

"Hi," she said, her voice sounding raspy. "How is she?" She gestured to their daughter who, just as she had been for that last little while, was sleeping peacefully in her father's arms.

"She's good. She's been sleeping a lot," he replied as he bent down so that she could get a better look at the baby.

"That's good," Amalia said, her eyes fixed on the baby. She could tell that Georg was still shook up from hearing she'd web in danger. "Well, she didn't exactly have the most graceful entrance into the world. I blame her father; after all, I've seen him dance," she tried to joke.

Oh, no, Amalia thought suddenly as Tears started streaming steadily down his face. Since she was close enough, Amalia reached out a hand to rest on his arm.

"I thought you were going to die," Georg said. "I thought I was going to have to do this alone. I thought I was going to lose you."

Amalia reached a bit farther and picked up the baby. Then, though the bed was clearly too small for this, she scooted over as far as she could so that her husband could lie down. She gestured for him do so and wrapped an arm around him as he did.

"Not tonight, Georg. I promise," she said.

His tears began to slow. "You know," he said. "All I could do was tell her about you while we were waiting. I thought, if anything she should know her mother somehow."

"Georg," Amalia said still trying to get him to believe that she was alright. "Love, look. I'm okay. We're both okay. But we still have an important matter to discuss. Names."

Georg turned to her. Without a pause her responded, "Licia."

Amalia smiled. "It's a perfect name. She is definitely one lucky girl."

And that, dear reader, is the story of how Licia Valeria Nowack made her grand debut.


	5. Everything's Coming Up Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for anonymous on Tumblr: Person A muttering something quietly to Person B. Unable to make it out, B asks them to repeat it. A few more requested repeats later, Person A just ends up shouting “I LOVE YOU.” in a crowded room.

Georg still couldn't believe that tonight, of all nights, was the one time Sipos had left work quickly in over a decade. Groaning, Georg pulled his coat around him tighter and left Maraczek's. He shouldn't have been surprised, really. It was just his luck that on the night he was supposed to meet dear friend he couldn't find Sipos and he'd been forced to resign.

He knew he had a few options to consider; he could keep looking for Ladislav and risk his Dear Friend leaving the Café Impériale before he got there. He could also run over there and have her meet him on what was possibly the only day of his life where everything went wrong. Or, he could see if she was there without putting the rise in his lapel, and, if he were to find her there, then he would put the rise in his lapel. Yes, the last idea seemed the best to him.

Before he could delay any further, he hurried to the bus stop.

***SLM***

Georg held his breath as he entered the classy-looking restaurant, unsure of what he would find. Would his Dear Friend still be there or had she already left because she thought he wouldn't come? He certainly hope that she was still there.

Before he proceeded to check the tables in front of him for his Dear Friend, the girl who had the copy of Anna Karenina with the rose in it, he double-checked that his own Rose was still safely ensconced in his pocket. As he pulled it out he noticed how wilted it had become. With a sigh, he shoved it back into his pocket. If she were there, it would just have to do.

Returning to the task at hand, Georg began to scan the café. Unable to see clearly, he walked up to the nearest table where a young woman sat. For a moment Georg was convinced he'd found Dear Friend, but the girl didn't have the book. With nothing but a small wave to the woman who was now staring at him curiously, he moved on to the next table.

Georg stopped suddenly. His mind was flooded with far too many panicked thoughts: Was that...? But... She couldn't be Dear Friend! 

***SLM***

Amalia was concerned for her Dear Friend. When she had written him, he had seen like a smart, nice man. And she couldn't think of a reason for said smart, nice man to miss their date. Perhaps he was in trouble?

As she waited she continued to read the far-too-ornate menu that had some, shall we say, odd options for dinner and sip her wine that, if she were being truthful, had already made her a little bit lightheaded. Aside from having to clean her dress after the busboy had spilled wine on it, this is what she'd been doing all night.

Finally frustrated at reading about the seafood options for the ninety-second time that night, Amalia glanced up to observe the people around her. There was the most adorable couple, whom she immediately assumed were about to be engaged if the nervous way the man was behaving meant anything. Then there was the older couple who were probably celebrating an anniversary of some sort. And then there was Georg. Wait, Amalia thought, where did he come from? Was he here to intentionally sabotage her date with Dear Friend?

"Me. Nowack!" She exclaimed. Ugh, she thought, why did I just acknowledge him. Now we're just bound to converse and we both know that if we converse it will most definitely end in a fight.

He turned, a look of utter terror on his face. What reason did he have to be afraid? It was her who was going to miss her date with Dear Friend.

"Ms. Balash," he replied. "Why, I didn't expect to see you here."

Odd, she thought. He hadn't started an argument yet. This brought another reason for him being at the Café Impériale.

"Are you following me?" She asked. 

Georg didn't think that this night could get any worse. In a movement he had done many times when he was stressed, he stuffed his hand in his pocket. Without thinking it wrapped around the rose.

"No, Miss Balash, I am not," he replied tersely.

Amalia scoffed. "Then why are you here?" 

Without thinking, Georg slammed his hand on the table. 

"I'll have you know, Miss Balash, that I, too..." His shout suddenly trailed off into a complete silence as he noticed how Amalia had gone quiet and her eyes trailed to his hand. Oh, no, he thought. I didn't...

But the evidence was there for all to see. Georg, his hand flat on the table with the pink rose that matched the one in Amalia's copy of Anna Karenina.

"Is this a joke?" Amalia asked. Not that she could deny that she was attracted to Georg, when he wasn't being a thorn in her side. "Did you come here to ridicule me. Because it's bad enough that my date is over two hours late, but for you to come in here and..."

"Not everything I do is to hurt you, Amalia," Georg replied in a defeated tone. It didn't escape Amalia's notice that he had used her first name. "You know what this means. It means that we are each other's Dear Friend. It means that I..."

Amalia couldn't hear the rest of what he said. No longer having the urge to fight she asked: "What does it mean?"

Georg once again mumbled in response.

"Georg," she said. "Please, speak up. I can't hear you when you mutter things."

With an aggravated look, Georg finally said what he had wanted to say all along.

"It means that I love you." He practically shouted, garnering looks from the other patrons of the restaurant.

Amalia froze. She knew, logically, that if he were Dear Friend it meant that they were in love. But to hear him say those words made her pause.

Taking her lack of a response as a rejection, Georg began to leave.

"Goodbye, Miss Balash," he said.

"Georg!" She shouted after him. He didn't stop.

Without hesitation (or her coat for that matter) Amalia ran out after him. After all, if he was Dear Friend, a fact which she couldn't deny anymore, it meant that she loved him. And she needed to stop him before he thought that she didn't.

When she finally caught up to him a couple of streets away from the restaurant she called his name again. He stopped and turned towards her.

"What-" he began to say. Before he was able to finish his thought, Amalia went on her tip-toes to kiss him. Though catching him by surprise, Georg responded and wrapped hiatus around her waist. Soon after, they broke apart.

"What-" he started again.

"I do hope you know other words," Amalia joked with a smirk. In a more sincere voice she said, "I love you too, my Dear, Dear Friend."

Georg smiled. "So, what happens now?" he asked.

"I don't know," Amalia responded truthfully. "I've never fallen in love with someone I hate before."

"Neither have I," Georg admitted. He soon noticed that she was shivering. "Where's your coat?"

Amalia seemed to suddenly noticed she'd forgotten it in the café.

"Oh," she said. "I should probably go get it."

Georg pulled his jacket off and place it over her shoulders, his suit jacket keeping him warm enough. "We'll go get it together."

"I'd like that, Georg."


	6. The One with the Fortune Cookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Anonymous on Tumblr: slm prompt: "I'm just doing what the fortune cookie said!"
> 
> And
> 
> Person B overhearing Person A admit to C that while they love B more than anything in the world, they’re certain that B doesn’t love them back at all. Person B spends the rest of the day proving just how much they do sincerely love A.
> 
> Thanks for the prompt. Also, yes, I am assuming there were (at least a few) Chinese restaurants in 1930s Budapest. It turns out even Google couldn't help me with this research. Enjoy!

It was a brief moment of calmness at Maraczek's when Ilona and Amalia took a break to eat their lunch in the workroom. 

"So," Ilona started. "How are things going with..." She trailed off as she motioned to the front of the store.

"With?" Amalia asked, feigning ignorance.

"With Georg!" Ilona said as if it were the most obvious insinuation.

Amalia pretend to be shocked and to scoff.

"What? With Georg? No, we hate each other just like always," Amalia replied without making eye contact. It seemed her lunch had become far more interesting as that was what she kept staring at. Ilona, however, just looked at her friend as though she we a silly child.

"Please," Ilona began. "I'm not stupid. Anyone with eyes can see that there's something going on there."

"Fine," Amalia relented. "We found out that we were each other's Dear Friend--"

"You are!" Ilona exclaimed excitedly.

"And he came over for Christmas dinner at my mother's," Amalia continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "But he hasn't really done anything since. I think," she paused for a moment and realized how much she had really want anted to talk to someone about this, particularly someone she trusted so much. "I think he may love Dear Friend but not Amalia."

Ilona looked at her friend with a look of sadness. 

"Oh, Amalia," Ilona said, feeling truly sorry for her friend. After all, every man she'd known had only ever cared to discover one side of her; she couldn't imagine what it would be like to be only half-loved, if that.

***SLM***

It was barely noon when Georg realized that with all of the excitement that was generated by an enormous wave of customers earlier that day that he had forgotten his golden M pin in the workroom. Without a moment to spare, he quickly popped into the room to grab it.

When recalling this moment, he wouldn't be able to explain why he suddenly came to a stop. 

"I think he may love Dear Friend but not Amalia," he heard his Dear Friend, the woman he loved say. Just hearing these words were nearly enough to break his heart. He was kicking himself; he didn't know if she wanted to take it slow or fast and he'd just sort of made a decision. But she had taken his decision to go slow as a sign that he had lost interest in her which was not the case at all.

Without a word or his pin he returned to his counter.

***SLM***

It was little the little things that Georg did that day that helped to reassure Amalia. There were the few little kisses he kept dropping whenever the store was without customers. Those definitely kept brining smile and happy smiles to Amalia's lips.

What really cheered her up, though was finding a note addressed to Dear Friend asking if she wanted to go to dinner at a Chinese restaurant that evening. Amalia had sought out Georg and had quickly accepted his invitation.

***SLM***

The meal had gone well; Georg and Amalia had had but one small albeit amicable spat about… well Amalia couldn't quite remember, but it was over now. The rest of the evening had been spent discussing The Red and The Black.

"Your check, sir." The small elderly woman who had been their server said as she handed Georg the bill for the meal and two fortune cookies. Georg paid speedily and turned back to Amalia. 

"Are you prepared to find out your future?" He asked with a small smile. Amalia mirrored his grin.

"Oh," she began jokingly. "I'm not sure if I'll be able to handle it."

Carefully, the couple each broke their cookies in half and read their contents.

Amalia was utterly thrilled with the one she had received. It read: "It will be important to show you care about your loved ones."

Without hesitation, Amalia leaned over and kissed a surprised Georg far more passionately that she was used to in public. Afterwards, Georg just gaped a little. She decided to take pity on her boyfriend then. 

"I'm just doing what the fortune cookie said!" She exclaimed as she passed the paper to him. As he picked it up and comprehension dawned on his face, he replied: "I love you too, Amalia."

And that is the story of how a fortune cookie cemented Georg and Amalia's relationship.


	7. Not Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anonymous on Tumblr: Person A standing outside drenched to the bone in the rain. Person B runs up behind them with an umbrella that is technically built for one. To conserve space, B pulls A as close to them as possible.
> 
> Just a little something because of the CD signing today. Sorry it's short! The next one will be much longer, I promise!

Amalia had thought that it would be a nice day; red sky at night, sailor's delight and all that. She'd even insisted on it when she and Georg left their little apartment that morning.

"Sweetheart, why don't you take the other umbrella? It looks like it's going to rain today," her husband had insisted when they were about to leave to take the bus to work. Without a pause, his wife responded.

"There was a red sky last night," she said as if that made perfect sense. "That means the weather today will be fine."

Georg rolled his eyes as they left, grabbing what was, unfortunately, the smallest umbrella in the apartment. The two then shrugged on their coats and walked to the bus stop together.

***SLM***

It seemed as though what- or whom-ever was in charge of Budapest's weather that day decided to make a liar out of Amalia. As it was her and Georg's turn to close the store, the couple were the last in the store. They finished pulling the blinds shut, and each took one of the tin pink sheets to pull over their respective counters full of makeup and perfume. 

"I'm going to grab my coat. I'll see you at the bus stop!" Amalia said as she headed back into the workroom. It wasn't that she and Georg didn't enjoy each other's company on the way to the bus stop, but it was often used for whomever was finished first to have a little alone time. The two did, after all, work at the same (rather small) parfumerie and live in the same tiny apartment. Sometimes a little bit of distance was good for a little breathing room.

As she pushed open the old building's door she froze as she heard the sound. It was rain, treacherous rain. Knowing that Georg was going to be in an "I Told You So" mood when he caught up to her, Amalia sighed and proceeded to walk down the grey, soaking wet sidewalk.

Though not a long walk, Amalia did get to see a few interesting things on the way. Hammerschmidt's seemed to be under renovations, apparently Mr. Kodaly didn't lie about that. She waved to the owners of the bakery, an elderly couple whose store seemed to always be open despite what appeared to be a lack of customers. They, just like every other day that Amalia had left late, waved back.

Amalia finally arrived at the stop, sure that she looked like a cross between a melted figurine and a drowned rat. Oh well, she thought, there are worse this that could happen.

It was only moments later when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. Turning around so that she was facing him, she found Georg, grinning. 

"What?" He asked when he saw her confused stare. It was the only way we could both fit under the umbrella. After all, it isn't nice to let the love of your life catch a cold."

"That would be rather unfortunate."

"Indeed. But on another note, what beautiful sunshine we have, love," Georg said.

Amalia decided that a glare would be the appropriate response to this.

"I'm not admitting you were right," she said firmly.

"But you have to concede that I wasn't wrong," he said back.

Amalia just rolled her eyes. 

"Alright," she acquiesced as she snuggled deeper into his embrace. "You weren't wrong."

It was soon after that the bus arrived and the couple returned safely to their home, Georg still insisting he was right.


	8. Chapter 8: Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Anonymous on Tumblr: hi omg i love your she loves me fic on ao3! it's so sweet and so well written. prompt: amalia and georg introduce their new baby to the workers at maraczek's? thanks!
> 
> Thank you so much for the lovely comment and for the prompt (that I've been dying to write), Nonny! This chapter references chapter Chapter 4: Introducing, For the First Time Ever… But all you really need to know is that Georg and Amalia have a newborn daughter named Licia and that her birth was rather traumatic.
> 
> ALSO! I only have one more prompt in my inbox; please feel free to submit more!!!

"Hi, baby girl," Amalia said as she lay in her tiny hospital bed, her swaddled up newborn daughter nestled comfortably in her arms and her husband sleeping, folded practically in half with his neck at an obviously awkward looking angle, in the hard and uncomfortable chair by the side of the bed. After only having gotten to hold her daughter for far too short a time before both she and her needed to go to sleep, Amalia took the time to revel and be thankful for both her and the infant's presence. Everything from her little wrinkled pink face (with eyes that still remained firmly shut) to her itty-bitty toes was perfect as far as Amalia was concerned. Though, being her mother she supposed she was a slight bit biased. "I am so happy that you're alright."

Amalia remained like this for a few more moments more until she was startled out of her reverie (and Georg out of his slumber) by a sharp and quick series of knocks on the door to the room. 

"Come in," Amalia said to the guest whose identity was still unknown. She was only slightly surprised when the blonde head of her and Georg's friend and colleague eventually came into view. Georg rubbed his eyes, stumbled into a somewhat standing position and went to greet her at the door as a sore and tired Amalia remained in bed.

"Hi!" Ilona said as she greeted the proud new parents. "Congratulations!"

Ilona, being Ilona, ran up and gave each of her friends a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm so sorry that Paul couldn't make it," she apologized for her husband. "He was desperately needed at work."

"That's too bad," Amalia said and truly meant it. Though she (nor Ilona) had known the man very long, he seemed like a good person. Ilona then proceeded to sit on the edge of her friends bed, between Amalia and Georg. She asked and was immediately handed the baby by Amalia who, though fully trusting of Ilona, kept vigilant watch over her daughter.

"Although, on a happier note, Ladislav and Arpad said that they would also be by within the hour," Georg said. Ilona, too distracted by the infant, only nodded without Georg knowing if she'd actually listened to what he said.

"So..." Ilona prompted with a quick curious look at both parents. "What name did you decide on for her?"

With a quick glance at each other, Georg signalled that Amalia should tell her their daughter's name.

"We decided to call her," Amalia said from next to her friend. "Licia Valeria Nowack."

"Wow that is a mouthful," Ilona said without pausing to think of her response. Upon seeing the slightly shocked faces she decided that maybe she should have considered how that would sound. She then added, "I mean it's lovely, VERY nice."

"Thank you," Georg said, with at least some sincerity.

Amalia was about to say something until the group heard another knock at the door. 

"Come in." This time it was Georg who invited the guest into the hospital room.

Ladislav Sipos, clad in his typical gray hat and suit and wrapped in a colourful scarf that differed greatly from Amalia neon pink pyjamas that Georg had brought her, Ilona's impeccably gorgeous blue pencil skirt and crisp blouse, and Georg's rumpled (and very obviously slept in) white shirt and wrinkled pants, entered the small, dull room in his usually happy and upbeat demeanour. 

"Good morning!" He said as he greeted all the occupants of the room. "And congratulations, Georg," he shook the taller man's hand. "And Amalia," he hugged the smaller woman. He then proceeded to turn to Ilona who still held the baby girl in a bundle of blankets in her arms. Wordlessly, the infant was handed to over the only person who had had regular contact with babies at some point in his life. Needless to say that despite this, Amalia and Georg were still tensed slightly when someone other than they picked up their daughter. Unlike her parents, Licia relaxed and continued to doze quietly in Ladislav's arms. After all, it was unlikely she even noticed that someone else had picked her up.

"And what name did you two choose for this little cutie?" He asked as looked down at the sleeping child he was holding.

"Licia," Georg said. "Licia Valeria Nowack."

Ladislav raised an eyebrow.

"That is definitely a good solid name, is it not, Licia?" He asked the baby. Unsurprisingly, Licia seemed less than impressed as she did not do anything but scrunch up her face, far too engrossed in her dream to care about something as trivial and mundane as learning her own name.

It wasn't long before another set of knocks interrupted the group. This time, it was Mr. Maraczek and Arpad (pardon me... Mr. Laszlo) who came in. After a conversation that was awfully similar to the ones that they had had with Ilona and Sipos, the conversation died down a bit.

"Arpad," Ladislav said as he turned to the young clerk. "Would you like to hold her?"

The look that passed over Arpad's face at the thought could only be described as pure terror. His mouth formed a perfect 'O' and his bright red eyebrows were raised high above their usual resting place above his eyes.

"I," he stuttered. "I don't know. I've never held a baby before."

"It's easy," Sipos said. "Here," he motioned for him to sit on the only remaining unoccupied corner of Amalia's hospital bed. "Now hold you arms like I am." The boy copied the man's position. Ladislav then carefully placed the oblivious infant into Arpad's arms. Almost instantly he tensed. "Now don't forget to support her head," Ladislav added as a final instruction before he moved away slightly. Georg and Amalia still remained on high alert (after all, neither had ever been responsible for such precious cargo before).

Arpad's face finally broke into a grin, with most of the anxiousness from earlier having disappeared.

"Hi, there," he said to Licia. "It's nice to meet you."

The rest of the room chuckled. It was beyond them as to how the boy seemed to succeed at everything he put his effort into. 

After a little while, Mr. Maraczek insisted on holding Licia, a request to which Arpad happily and quickly obliged.

"Well hello there, Little Miss Nowack," he said. "Welcome to the family."

Soon it was time for the guests to depart, but not before one final announcement from Georg and Amalia.

"As you know," Georg started. "We think of all of you as family. After all, you guys got here even before Licia's grandparents did!"

This got anothe round of giggles from the group.

"And so," Amalia continued from where her husband left off. She really couldn't wait to ask her friends the question that she had Georg had discussed at length soon before she had given birth. "We want you all to be Licia's honorary aunt and uncles."

Without hesitation, all the members of the group agreed and the little family then had to part ways and leave the new parents with their daughter. Georg, in the process, had somehow once again found himself sitting at his wife's side holding their baby. He tried to focus on the child in his arms, but after the scare in which Amalia had almost died the night before, he could not help but notice how pale she still was. Amalia, noticing that her husband seemed to be in a far off place, leaned her head on his shoulder and looked their daughter.

"I love you both, you know." She said quietly. That seemed to bring Georg back to the present moment.

"I love you both, too," he said as he place a little kiss on Amalia's forehead.


	9. Chapter 9: In Sickness…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by anonymous on Tumblr: Person A has a major headache and Person B is carrying A upstairs, occasionally pretending to drop them, only to immediately grab them again. B then says something stupidly romantic like “I’d never let you go” and then accidentally smacks A against the stair rails.
> 
> Thanks to servethenuts for being an awesome beta!!!!

It wasn't unusual for Georg and Amalia to spend any and all free evenings listening to their radio or reading books in the living room of their tiny home. It was, however, highly unusual for Amalia to be the first one of the pair to to put down her book. Especially when said book was the latest release from her favourite author. Georg, being as perceptive as he (usually) was, found this event completely out of the ordinary. Lifting his eyes from his book, he observed her movements.

"Are you feeling alright, love?" He asked as he noticed her using her hands to rub her temples. She winced slightly and looked up when he spoke.

"No," she replied. "Not unless I'm supposed to feel like I'm being stabbed in the head."

Georg slid an arm around her shoulders.

"Hmm... I don't think that that's how you're supposed to feel," he whispered into her ear. he had hope that she would at least grin a bit, but it appeared her headache was too severe for her to focus on anything else aside from relieving the pain. Unperturbed, he continued on with what he had to say. "Do you want me to go get you a glass of water and one of those pills that…"

The offer he was making was suddenly cut off by his wife aggressively shaking her head.

"No," she said tiredly as she leaned into his shoulder and her hands ceased moving at her temples. "I think I just need to rest. Maybe close my eyes, take a little nap. Yes, that sounds like a marvellous idea."

Georg considered letting her sleep there, but that seemed like a very poor idea for many reasons. First of all, in the mood she was in right now, she would probably sleep on their far from comfortable couch. That would inevitably lead to Amalia having a stiff and sore neck in the morning when he knew that she would insist on going to work despite her discomfort. And her discomfort would definitely lead to her becoming upset and irritated. Georg needed to keep her awake, or get her to their bed, and before she got comfortable on the sofa. 

By the time he had decided this it was already too late. He could hear the little snores that drifted softly out of Amalia’s that could only mean that she had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

The next problem he encountered was that (as he had learnt from a few previous deadly experiences) one did not simply wake a sleeping Amalia if one cared greatly for his life. And Georg felt it especially important to note that, all-in-all, he did quite enjoy his life and that it would be a true shame for it to end now.

His next actions were borne out of love for his wife’s well-being and significant consideration for his own. He carefully slipped his left arm out from behind his wife’s head with nothing but a small break in her snoring and her shifting positions subtly as a reaction. Okay, step one was complete.

Step two was in need of a much more delicate touch. With a deep breath, he slid one of his hands under her knees and the other behind her neck. He held his breath to see if she would stir. Luckily, she did not.

He then proceeded to lift her up close to his chest. This reminded him of the last time he had done this, when she had been in the throes of cough medicine induced delusion. He remembered that he had only wanted to bring her some vanilla ice cream, and that that had somehow rendered him a suspect in the theft of her shoe (which had of course just been stuck under the bed, but that was beside the point). Heck, she was even wearing the same neon pink pyjamas with cream stripes now as she was that cold and blustery day!

It felt like such a long time ago, and yet it had only been at most a year. And still, despite him having been hesitant at the time, he could remember the affection he had felt for her that day and how heartbroken she had been when she had thought that Dear Friend had stood her up. Granted, he had teased her about Dear Friend being old, and bald, and fat. 

A particularly loud snore de-railed his train of thought. He needed to focus on the task at hand.

With determination and care in his step, he strode over to the staircase. Carefully, so as not to cause a squeak from the wonky, old floorboard, he placed his foot into the first step. Checking that Amalia was still asleep, her husband walked up the next few stairs taking care to guarantee that she hadn't woken up yet. When he had ascended about three quarters of the narrow staircase, he felt the woman in his arms start to squirm suddenly. Panicking, he froze where he was.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said when he saw her eyes pop open. Amalia began to look around, feeling rather disoriented. The last thing she had remembered was falling asleep in Georg’s arms on the sofa. After a few moments, she determined that he must have been carrying her up to bed after she had dozed off downstairs.

“Georg,” she started feeling embarrassed that she needed to be carried to bed like a small child, but also strangely happy that her husband wanted her to be comfortable. “I could walk these if you'd have woken me up.”

“Well that would have involved waking you up,” Georg said in reply. “And I have learnt that that is not something I should do.”

Amalia giggled as she remembered the last time he had friend to wake her from a deep slumber.

“Okay,” Georg said. “I'll just finish bringing us both up to bed.”

“No Georg,” Amalia said. “Don't be ridiculous! I can walk; I don't want you to hurt yourself.”

“We’ll be fine,” Georg promised. “Besides, I'd never let you go.”

That moment would have been far more romantic if a miscalculation on Georg's part hadn’t led to Amalia whacking her head on the metal railing.


End file.
